Monday, November 19, 2012

Live from the chemo room 33

If cancer was easy, they'd call it your mother!

That's paraphrasing my favorite sign from the half-marathon I recently ran, substituting the original's "running a marathon" with "cancer." How exactly calling our mothers sluts is motivating, I'm not sure, but I did have a smile on for the next half mile after seeing that one.


No cancer isn't easy. There have been days during this current round of chemo when I've wondered why I started a treatment that definitely makes me feel worse than the disease. The answer is obvious, but that doesn't make it easy.

What does help make things easier is the support of good friends and family. My last chemo session included visits from Alexis and Elizabeth, two close friends. Today's visitor was my father-in-law Donny. Some of you will recall my stories about Donny from the book. He told me today that the chemo lounge here is much nicer than the one back home in Maryland. But not everything here is better. He still hasn't ordered a crab cake in Georgia. I can't blame him for that one.

Dr. Z. told me today we'll get scans in the next couple of weeks and then talk about what's next. He's hoping we see progress and if so, he'll be deciding on what my maintenance routine will be going forward. That may mean the new oral drug, but also may involve staying one on of the infusion drugs I've been taking for the last couple of months. We'll know more in about 3 weeks.

Until then, I'm rocking the bald head, and the worst acne I've had since 1983. Guess you could say I'm not as easy on the eyes as I used to be!

Sunday, November 4, 2012

This is how you LIVE with Cancer

L-R: Danny, Dave, me, Luis

It wasn't about the time, which was lousy, or the medal, which will go in the pile with a dozen others from past races. And the t-shirt is a shade of green I won't likely wear again.

This weekend was about living.

It was about reliving old memories and good times with my 3 best friends from high school. It was about enjoying a beautiful weekend in a picturesque city with perfect weather. And yes, it was about running a half-marathon 10 days after my latest chemo treatment.

Let me be clear. I'm not posting this because I want people to congratulate me on the race. My message is much simpler. Cancer doesn't define me. I define me. I am a husband, father, runner, friend... There's no room on my personal business card for "cancer patient."

I know not everyone dealing with cancer is able to run a half marathon. And believe me there are days when I can't run at all. But everyone with cancer has something they did before they were diagnosed, something they think cancer can take away from them. Something that used to be a part of how they defined themselves. And something that doesn't have to go away.

I run more slowly than I ever have in my life. I feel worse than I ever did after races. So what? I'm still a runner. And a husband, father, and friend (and maybe even a little better at those 3 than I was before cancer came along).

Thanks Danny, David, and Luis for the weekend. Thanks Ghila for the awesome shirts. Thanks Marcie and our kids for all the encouragement. Thanks to you friends for reading this, and, I hope, carrying the message with you.